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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Cullen awoke early from yet another fitful sleep. He sighed as he rolled onto his back; he was used to restless nights, but sometimes he longed for the innocence of his youth. He’d been able to sleep like then dead then, and lately, with increasing frequency, he was finding himself wishing to be among the lifeless. The dead didn’t suffer nightmares or chronic headaches.
Rolling on to his side, he cursed his fate, like he so often did. There were days where he just wanted to end it all. A swift blade to end the pain, the torment, and the guilt that he suffered. He had done terrible things in his time as a Templar, and although there were many great things he accomplished with the Inquisition, only the despicable acts lingered in his deepest recesses of his mind. This was already shaping up to be one of those days, until his gaze fell upon his reason to carry on in this life.
She watched him with warm, honey-brown eyes that always beheld him with immense love and devotion. Even the slightest glance from the corner of her eye was enough to lift his spirit from the dark emptiness of the void and up into the vibrant warmth of a cherished life. The moonlight illuminated her fine features, casting her in a silver glow that validated his belief that she was Maker-sent.
“Did I wake you?” he asked softly. A warm smile spread across her face, crinkling the outer corners of her eyes.
“I’d happily be woken a thousand times a night, as long as I’m waking next to you.”
He snaked his arm around her shapely waist and drew her close.
“I love you, Bethany Rutherford.”
She brushed his bed-messed curls from his face and placed a lingering kiss to his lips.
“And I you, Cullen,” she whispered after slowly pulling away. “My darling husband.” Her fingers lightly traced lines across his face, and he could feel the soothing tingle of her healing magic as it wove its way into his aching head. “Go back to sleep, love. I’ll go start breakfast.”
Cullen quietly moaned his acquiescence and sprawled across the bed once Bethany rose. She worked just the right spell to quiet his mind and ease the pain. He felt incredibly lucky to have her in his life, and he would show her just how much she meant to him. It was Satinalia, and he managed to finally get her the perfect gift.
The sunlight forced its way past the shield of his closed eyelids, waking him from a solid rest. As his senses roused, he smiled at the aroma of fresh bread and mulled wine emanating from the kitchen. Cullen pushed himself to sitting, and dangled his legs over the edge of the bed, waiting for the usual bout of dizziness. After it passed, he forced himself to his feet. Stepping into his trousers and pulling the deep red tunic over his head, he crossed the room to their dressing table.Glancing into the mirror, he hastily tamed his curls before making his way into the kitchen.
His heart fluttered when his eyes fell upon his beautiful wife. She was at the oven, removing a fresh loaf of honey bread from the heat. He quickly stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and placed tender kisses on the smooth, ticklish skin of her exposed shoulder. He curled one arm around her chest, and his other hand rested on her belly. He longed to have a family with her, to have a brood of children with the woman that he loved, but after years of trying, they were still unsuccessful. As he regularly did, he cursed his Templar past and his prior lyrium addiction, for certainly that was the cause of their empty home.
Bethany giggled and squirmed, snapping him from his unhappy thoughts. With the lightness of a feather, his tongue danced over her flesh, causing it to goosepimple. She was unable to put up much of a struggle, however, since her hands were full.
“Do you really want your breakfast on the floor, Cullen? Because that’s where it’s about to go if you don’t stop!”
Cullen chuckled and nuzzled the back of her neck, taking in the scent of violets from her dark hair.
“Do you really want me to stop, wife?”
Bethany sighed and arched her back, pressing her rear against him. “Never,” she purred. “But let’s eat first, so you’ll have the strength to continue this later.”
“As you wish,” he growled softly into her ear, smiling at how she swiveled her hips slightly when his lips grazed her lobe.
He released her from his embrace and took his seat at the table. Bethany was the most doting wife, and was better to him than he deserved. She made sure that he ate well, and always made the most delicious meals. Today she set the hot, fresh bread in front of him, complete with butter, ripe berries and soft cheese. She poured him a mug of mulled wine and took her seat by his side.
He gave her a playful smirk. “I have your Satinalia gift,” he said before he popped some berries into his mouth.
“And I, yours,” she replied as she spread the soft cheese over her bread. Smiling, she lifted her eyes and met Cullen’s gaze. “I think I want mine first.”
Cullen was hoping that she would say that. He had been almost overwhelmed with excitement since he got it, and was aching to give it to her.
“We are moving,” he said proudly. Her wide-eyed expression caused him to grin.
“Cullen,” she gasped, “are you serious? Did you finally-”
“Yes, love. We finally have our own home, and a piece of land, in the Hinterlands. Nearly halfway between Lothering and Honnleath.”
“Oh, Cullen!” Bethany flung herself from her chair and into his arms, peppering his face with gracious kisses.
“Are you ready for your gift?”
Cullen cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “Always.”
Bethany gave him a playful swat and rose from his lap. “I’ll be right back.
Cullen watched her hips sway as she walked away from him and out of the front door. The Maker had blessed him with the most beautiful and caring wife, and the least he could do for her was move her from the Inquisition-owned cabin in which they stayed, to a real home of their own. The war was over, and the Inquisition was now primarily a peacekeeping force. He officially retired as Commander of the Inquisition forces the moment it converted to the Divine’s service and the writ was drawn.
The sound of the door opening drew him from his thoughts. Bethany entered, carrying a large lidded picnic basket.
Out of breath, she handed it to him. “For you, my love.”
He lifted the basket of formidable weight from her hands and placed it on the floor. Taking a knee beside it, he opened the lid. Tears instantly stung his eyes as the emotion welled, and his cheeks began to hurt from smiling.
“Maker, Bethany,” he whispered as he lifted a chocolate-colored Mabari pup from the wicker container, “he’s perfect.” He cradled his new hound against his shoulder and laughed heartily as his face was licked enthusiastically. Cullen scratched at the dog’s neck and noticed something hanging from it’s collar. He lowered the pup to his lap and held the dangling items in his hand. They were handmade, small little things, that looked to be-
Cullen’s eyes snapped up to Bethany, who was beaming. “Are these-? Are you-? Am I-?” he stammered.
Bethany nodded and drew up beside him. Cupping his cheeks with her shaking hands, she smiled and said through her tears, “They are booties. I am pregnant, and you are going to be a father.”
Cullen’s heart nearly leapt from his chest. He laughed joyfully and kissed his wife tenderly, thanking the Maker for hearing his prayers, and for this day, a most unforgettable Satinalia.
